


Cold Steel Hands

by hecateandhoney (LiveLoveLikeMe)



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 11:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20906645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLoveLikeMe/pseuds/hecateandhoney
Summary: When an innocent game of apple bobbing goes awry, Lady Mary finds a new soulmate, and Phyllis Baxter isn't quite ready to accept what that means.F/F. Mary/Baxter. Oneshot.





	Cold Steel Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Yessi asked for Baxter and Halloween and I present you... this lengthy mess. Honestly, I had sooo much fun writing this. I just adore them so much, and I hope you do as well. 
> 
> I read about this tradition from the 1920s of a version of apple bobbing played at Halloween parties. I need to preface this by stating that I’m not entirely sure if this specifically was part of British culture too, but I know apple bobbing in general was.

The party in the servants’ hall was in full swing, and Phyllis Baxter was thoroughly enjoying herself with a small glass of wine, sitting off to the side and giggling at all the nonsense fun. The family had retired early, knowing the staff had their downstairs tradition and not wishing to intrude upon it. While they scarcely took note of Hallowe’en beyond some games for the children, things down below were quite different. 

There was, as with all celebrations downstairs at Downton Abbey, soft music playing from the corner. Mr. Molesley was dancing excitedly to it, having already roped Phyllis into one too many. He’d stumbled tipsily onto her toes, and now she sat nursing the slight pain. Even so, Phyllis couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Her friend was truly more excited than the children.

Anna and Mr. Bates were sitting around the table with their son while Thomas told a regaling tale of ghosts and things that go bump in the shadows. He looked captivated now, but Phyllis knew he’d stay up all night caught between a sugar-high and a fear of the dark. She could still remember her own childhood nightmares after hearing the stories Thomas told, and she shivered. Yet she’d always enjoyed the fun of it at the time, just like Johnny Bates.

Mr. Carson was in an oddly good mood too, having joined them after their duties ended for the night. He twirled his wife around the dancefloor, both careful to steer clear of Mr. Molesley’s dangerous feet. It was a hazardous activity, to be sure, but Phyllis wished she could dance with someone she loved for once too.

Unfortunately, she found herself in the same boat as Thomas, and had resigned herself long ago to that never being possible.

“All right, here you have it, though I can’t imagine what you need all these apples for,” Mrs. Patmore complained, coming in with a heavy bucket of cleaned red apples and plunking it down on the table with a hearty sigh. 

“I’ve told you. It’s for a game,” Daisy explained, anxiously grabbing at the apples. “Is the water ready?”

“Just about,” called Andrew. He and Albert came in through the doorway struggling to share the weight of an old washing tub filled with water.

“You can set it over here,” Daisy ordered, pointing to a spot just out of Mr. Molesley’s dancing path.

“What’s this all for?” Phyllis asked, unable to resist something new being added to their festivities.

“I heard in the village about this game they play. It’s like apple bobbing but more fun,” Daisy explained, moving the bucket of apples closer to the water but notably not tipping them in as Phyllis expected.

“That may be fun for young Johnny here, but the rest of us are adults,” Thomas snarked, coming up behind them, story apparently finished.

“It’s different, this way,” Daisy insisted. “It’s not for children to play.”

“I suppose that’s our cue to leave,” Bates said, standing with the help of his cane and lifting little Johnny with him. Anna went to grab their coats.

“It’s not inappropriate or anything, you don’t have to,” Daisy insisted, even while looking deviously at her fiancé.

“It’s past his bedtime,” Anna added, coming in to bundle her family up for the cold October air.

“Oh, what do ya say, Charlie? We’re not too old for the fun, are we?” Mrs. Hughes asked, looking giddy at the idea of a new game.

“I very much doubt if I say we are, you’ll let me hear the end of it. Might as well get it over with,” Mr. Carson said with his usual grumpy air.

“So how do we play?” Thomas asked. “It just looks like regular bobbing for apples to me.”

“Well it is and it isn’t,” Daisy insisted. “You play it the same way, but the fun of it’s that everyone carves their name onto the bottom of an apple. Whichever apple you get, it means that person’s your soulmate.”

Andrew frowned. “Why would you need a game like that? You’ve already found yours.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “It’s just a game, you. It’s not like I’m going to get Mr. Carson and suddenly decide I should marry him.”

“I should certainly hope not,” Carson grumbled.

“Well count me out. I don’t need none of that nonsense,” Mrs. Patmore tutted, looking upon the apples with sudden scorn.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, all of you will play or it won’t be any fun.”

“I can’t imagine I’ll be any good at it, but I’ll try,” Phyllis spoke up. Truthfully the idea unsettled her very deeply, though she couldn’t place why. It was only a game. And it’s not as if she could get the actual person of her current affections, so there was nothing to worry about.

Aside from the Bates, who took their excuse of Johnny as a chance to flee the scene, everyone begrudgingly carved their names into the bottom of an apple and set it to float in the water. Even Mr. Carson.

“Would you like to join us, Lady Mary?”

Phyllis’ head shot up and she nearly tripped over Mr. Molesley’s excited swaying. Lady Mary was inexplicably standing in the doorway of the hall looking embarrassed to have been caught lingering.

“Was there something you needed, My Lady?” Thomas asked, looking half annoyed to be disturbed after hours and half ready to jump ship to do his duty regardless.

“Oh, no. Thank you, Barrow. I was just… wandering,” she said vaguely. “I wondered what all the fun I heard was about, but I shouldn’t have disturbed you all. I apologize.” She turned to leave, and Phyllis let out the breath she hadn’t meant to hold.

“Wander all you like, Milady. You’re welcome to stay, though I’m not certain you’ll find the humor in Daisy’s game,” Mrs. Hughes added, ever the mother hen.

She wasn’t wrong to invite Mary, Phyllis knew. She clearly was unsettled about something and in need of company. In all her years at Downton, Phyllis had never seen Mary express the slightest bit of interest in their goings-on downstairs. And yet, she still hoped desperately that she would leave, suddenly unsure this game was a good idea.

“How does it work?” Mary asked instead, turning and looking curiously at the apples floating unevenly around the washtub.

“It’s simple, really. You just carve your name into an apple and put it in with the rest. Then everyone takes turns bobbing for apples, and whoever’s name you get’s your soulmate,” Daisy explained.

Surely the game would hardly tempt someone of Lady Mary’s pedigree, and Phyllis almost sighed in relief when she smiled and shrugged.

“Oh, I suppose it can’t hurt. Heaven knows I could use a new soulmate,” Mary joked dryly, though no one knew if they were quite supposed to laugh, and it landed awkwardly around the room. “As long as you truly don’t mind the intrusion?” she asked hesitantly.

“Not at all,” Mr. Carson put in, suddenly the game’s biggest champion. Anything to make his favorite Lady Mary happy, Phyllis thought to herself. “Daisy, get Lady Mary an apple.”

The game commenced, and for a while, Phyllis thought she might be safe. Everyone was eager to go—some notably more than others—and she’d been able to slink into the background with relative ease. It was luck that her own apple had yet to be selected. She didn’t really wish to see who got it, for despite the silliness of the game, and the fact that apples clearly could not determine one’s actual soulmate, there was something unnervingly real about it all.

Mr. Carson got Mrs. Patmore, who had a good solid laugh about that, Daisy got Andrew, who looked so relieved he might collapse, and Thomas, in a twist to everyone’s gleeful delight, got himself.

Just as she was planning to slip off to bed with claims of a headache, Thomas spotted her attempted escape and smiled a Cheshire grin.

“Miss Baxter, you should go next. You were, after all, so eager to play before,” Thomas suggested, nearly tugging her up to the bin looking more eager by the minute. He couldn’t possibly guess why Lady Mary’s presence suddenly filled her with such worry, but he could smell it nonetheless.

“Very well,” Phyllis agreed, seeing no way of getting out of it with all eyes—including _her_ eyes—watching.

Leaning down to the apples was easy, but she hadn’t anticipated just how awkward it would be to try and catch a bobbing fruit between her teeth. She touched one and it slid away, forcing her to chase it. Phyllis and the apple played their little dance until she got it cornered, and using the force of the wash bin siding, she managed to get her teeth around it enough to lift it into the air with a victorious sigh. She was nearly finished.

Phyllis removed the apple from her mouth and smiled, feeling rather pleased with herself after all the effort. She went to pocket it for later, forgetting the game’s true purpose, when Thomas cleared his throat knowingly. “The name?” he reminded.

Phyllis blanched. The likelihood of that name being there was miniscule at best. She had nothing to worry about, really. Even if Mary’s sudden presence brought her one step closer to unveiling her embarrassing feelings, there were still plenty of names remaining she could draw.

Slowly, Phyllis flipped her apple and felt like she was sinking to the bottom of the wash bin herself.

“What does it say?” Daisy asked eagerly.

“L-lady Mary,” she stuttered.

Phyllis sniffed. She really, truly tried to act normal about it, but her gut was flipping most uncomfortably, like something wanted to claw its way out. This was a bad idea. Much too revealing. She should have fled the moment Mary entered the room and now she was going to be found out and it was all too much and—

“I believe I’ll take the next turn!” Mary declared, stepping up to the side before anyone could comment on Phyllis’ selection beyond the general cheers of delight.

As with everything Lady Mary did, her apple bobbing was executed with much more grace than Phyllis had displayed. It took her what seemed like only seconds to fly back up, apple secure between her perfect teeth. “Let’s see,” she began, squinting at the water-soaked letters.

“Go on, tell us Lady Mary!” Daisy cheered, getting lost in the game and forgetting her station as she was often prone to doing.

“The fates are in great humor tonight. It appears my soulmate is Miss Baxter,” she said with a calm smirk, looking directly over at the woman she’d inexplicably saved only moments before.

She knew it was a game, but hearing those words come from Lady Mary’s mouth—from_ her_ mouth—was too much for Baxter to take. The wine already had her head spinning, and the room was growing too warm. Thomas was suddenly eying her with less suspicion and something much more akin to _knowing_, which meant it was only a matter of time before others began to catch on to her panic.

“There’s a lot worse you can do than Miss Baxter,” Mrs. Patmore joked, oblivious to the tension crackling through the room and getting more and more into the game despite her initial reluctance.

“Indeed,” Mary agreed.

And that was it.

“Excuse me, I’m not feeling well. I think I ought to have a lie down,” Phyllis blurted out, waving off offers of help and nearly sprinting from the room.

She didn’t know where she wished to go, but it needed to be anywhere else. Her room was a non-option. Going to bed would only leave her alone with her thoughts. She needed a distraction. As if on auto-pilot, Phyllis slipped into the kitchen to grab a turnip and a small paring knife. She put on her coat and scarf at the door, pocketing her gloves, and slipped out back.

It was a tradition in her family to carve out little faces in the turnips and light them every Hallowe’en. They would hang them in the windows to ward off any unsavory spirits that crossed the veil with the harmless ones. She focused all her energy on hollowing the turnip out, then on designing it a little frowning face, desperate to think of anything besides Lady Mary being her soulmate.

It was preposterous. The game was obviously wrong. She might be slightly, a little bit, overwhelmingly infatuated with Mary, but there wasn’t a chance the Lady would ever have feelings back, let alone ones of any depth. And the worst of it all was that now she probably _knew_, because Phyllis was terrible at hiding the emotions on her face, and Mary was exceedingly clever.

And then, as if the universe truly wished to smite her, the door behind where Phyllis sat on the steps creaked open, and out walked none other than Lady Mary herself.

She startled, grabbing her chest in surprise.

“Goodness, Baxter, you nearly gave me a fright. What on earth are you doing out here at night by yourself with… is that a turnip?” she asked, bending closer to see. Phyllis got a strong whiff of her perfume and nearly cried.

“Apologies, Milady. I needed some air, and we used to carve these as children. They keep the bad spirits away,” she explained weakly, holding her ugly little creation up for Mary to examine.

“Well, by all means, carve more. Downton could do with less bad spirits, don’t you think?” Mary said with a shiver. “It’s positively frigid tonight. I hope you’re feeling better, otherwise you may catch your death.”

“I’ll be fine, Lady Mary. I could say the same to you, though. It’s hardly a nice time to be out by yourself.”

Mary waved a dismissive hand. “I’m made of tougher stuff than you know. And besides, I’m not alone. You’re here with me.”

“With all due respect, Milady, you didn’t know I’d be out here. Did you need anything?” Phyllis asked, wanting nothing more than for Mary to leave and stop looking at her so damn kindly. It was unnerving.

“No, I was just—I probably shouldn’t say. You’ll think me absurd.” Mary sighed and crossed her arms, taking an uninvited seat beside Baxter on the steps.

“I’m sitting outside carving a face into a vegetable because I couldn’t handle a harmless game. Everyone must think me ridiculous for running off like that. I hardly think you have anything to worry about here.”

“I’m not certain we can call it harmless if it distressed you so, but I see your point.” Mary looked off, like she was trying to gather herself. Phyllis clung to her turnip, resisting the urge to reach out a comforting hand. It wasn’t her place. “If you must know, I was going to visit Matthew’s grave. I realize it’s nothing more than a child’s tale, but all this talk of the spirits crossing over on Hallowe’en admittedly got to me. I’ve been waiting all day for a chance to slip away without needing to explain myself, but it seems you’ve caught me red handed.”

“I don’t think it’s a child’s tale at all. Not if it brings you comfort, Milady. But you shouldn’t go all that way alone in the dark. It’s not safe,” Phyllis protested.

Mary sighed, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “I know you’re right, but the alternative of asking someone to accompany me and explaining myself is far too distasteful. I’m certain I’ll be safe.”

The very notion of Mary going off into the dark by herself set Phyllis on edge. Much as she wanted to be away from the source of her heartache, the urge to protect was almost overwhelming. Before she could stop herself, Phyllis was speaking.

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but if it’s all the same to you, I wouldn’t mind the walk.”

“Do you mean that? It’s rather cold this evening, and the walk isn’t very brief. I wouldn’t be at all put off if you aren’t feeling up to it. Especially after you’ve said you’re unwell,” Mary said hesitantly.

Phyllis set her turnip and knife aside and stood before Mary could protest or she could change her mind. “The fresh air has done wonders. I’ve much recovered, and I’d be happy to accompany you. Besides, the village is beautiful in the moonlight, and it’s rare I get to see it.”

Mary smiled, gesturing for Phyllis to lead the way and following her the rest of the way off the steps. “I appreciate this, Baxter. More than you could possibly know.”

“There’s no need. I’m always happy to be in your company,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Are you? I’d have thought after your reaction to finding my name, you must loathe me.” Mary led the way off the property, eyeing her closely as she asked the question.

Phyllis felt herself flush with shame. “I never meant to make you feel such a way. It was nice of you to step in as you did. I don’t know that I can explain my reaction, but I promise it was nothing like that. I feel horrible if you thought so.”

Mary shrugged and slowed her steps so they were side by side, shooting her as close to a friendly smile as she could conjure.

“There’s no need to be so worked up, Baxter. It’s just a silly game, after all.”

“Of course, Milady.” And she was right, it was entirely silly. The butterflies in Phyllis’ stomach whenever Lady Mary looked her way, however, were less ridiculous. She couldn’t brush those aside, persistent as ever. 

“Besides, it’s not as if you’d ever want to be with someone like me regardless of what a piece of fruit divines. The idea is preposterous. Especially considering I’m…”

A highborn Lady, a widowed mother, a woman, too rich, too beautiful…

“Too cold,” Mary finished.

Phyllis blinked at the unexpected ending, wondering if Lady Mary had simply lost track of her thoughts. “Would you like to borrow my scarf, Milady?”

“Pardon?” Mary asked, sounding surprised by the offer, not least because she was already wearing her own.

Unknown embarrassment flooded Phyllis, making her cheeks grow warm. “To help with the cold,” she explained.

Mary sighed, looking down at the path and then straight ahead. “No thank you, Baxter. I did not mean… well, that’s neither here nor there. I appreciate the offer, but I’m perfectly warm enough. Are you?”

“Yes, Milady,” Phyllis answered out of obligation, but she couldn’t help turning Lady Mary’s words around in her head, the true meaning clicking. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re anything of the sort. You’ve always been kind to me,” Phyllis admitted.

“Have I?” Mary asked oddly, giving her a curious glance. “I’m not sure many could boast the same.”

“Perhaps not,” Phyllis shrugged, “but I don’t right care what they have to say. Anyone would be lucky to win your love.”

“You say that like it’s a prize,” Mary scoffed. “I think most come to find it’s more of a prison sentence.”

“Mr. Crawley didn’t seem to believe so, at least from what I’ve heard.”

“No, he was different,” Mary replied with a sad sort of smile. “I think I loved him better, perhaps. I don’t know what else it could be, but everyone else keeps running to the hills to get away from me.” Mary shook her head, smiling over at Baxter with a flush of embarrassment. “Listen to me, going on like this tonight. I can’t imagine what’s come over me. I’m sorry you’re having to witness such a display.”

“I don’t mind it,” Phyllis said quietly.

She kicked a pebble from their path as silence lapped between them.

Subconsciously, they shifted closer together until their sides were just brushing, seeking extra warmth against the cool fall air.

“Perhaps there was something to that foolish apple game after all,” Mary said minutes later.

“How do you mean?”

“Here I am exposing my weaknesses and you haven’t tried to flee back home yet. Perhaps you are my soulmate,” Mary joked dryly. “At least we would be a rather attractive couple.”

Phyllis choked at the very mention of the thought, turning away to cough into her scarf in an awkward attempt to gain her breathing back under control.

“Heavens, I didn’t mean to shock you so, Baxter. I only thought, given your friendship with Barrow—”

“Friendship doesn’t mean we think the same, Milady,” Baxter choked out. _For instance, he fancies men, while I only have eyes for—_

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply anything of the sort.” In a rare display of failure, Mary shut her eyes and brushed her gloved hands over her face. She stopped walking and tugged Phyllis by the wrist over to the side of the path. “I apologize. I only meant to suggest that my joke wouldn’t offend you because you were more open-minded than some. Clearly I overstepped.”

“No, you haven’t, Milady,” Phyllis rushed out, feeling embarrassed for her quick denial. “You only caught me off guard, is all. I’m not offended in the least. It’s only that I’m not quite used to people speaking so freely about it.”

Mary patted her upper arm in a showing of support and shook her head. “You’re right, it was rather foolish of me to bring it up so blatantly. I’m sure it was especially surprising to hear it coming from me.”

“Surprising, yes, but I don’t mind it, Milady,” Phyllis said gently, smiling up at the taller woman.

“You aren’t just saying that?”

“Not at all,” Phyllis reassured.

Silently, Mary gestured forward and they resumed their walk side-by-side.

“Then at the risk of making this worse than I already have, since we’ve stumbled into the topic, have you ever…” she trailed off, looking hesitant about powering on.

“Fancied a woman?” Phyllis guessed, holding her breath anxiously.

“Exactly.” Mary clapped her cold hands together and chanced a glance to Phyllis’ face.

“I’m not certain I should answer that, Milady.”

She expected a reassurance back that she need not have to, that Mary was overstepping again, but instead she was met with, “I thought Mabel Lane Fox was exceedingly beautiful.”

“Did you?” Phyllis suddenly felt the need for a sip of water.

“Did you ever see her? I can’t remember.” Mary shrugged. “She clearly only had eyes for Charles, but there was a moment where I thought perhaps I wouldn’t mind being in his shoes. Does that make me seem terribly hopeless? Here I am prattling on about wanting to be worthy of love and I can’t even like the right people.”

“I don’t think there’s right and wrong people, Milady. Just those who love us and those who don’t.”

“I’m afraid I’ve been awfully forward with you tonight, Baxter. I hope you can forgive me. I’m not sure what’s come over me. I’ve never admitted any of this to another soul.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to forgive. And for what it’s worth, you’re not the only one,” Phyllis admitted, feeling the need to match Mary’s openness in the quiet of the night air, where none of the rest of the world existed to them.

“Really? You’re not just saying that for my benefit?” Mary asked skeptically.

“Not at all. But only in my hopes, you see. I’ve never… _acted_ on anything. I wouldn’t even know how.”

“No, neither have I,” Mary admitted. “And depending on how much Anna runs her tongue to you, you may be surprised to hear that given my history.”

Phyllis frowned. “She’s never said a word, Milady. I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

Mary smiled. “Well then I can safely assume you’re the only one in the house unaware, which is quite the benefit to me, as I’m not sure you’d wish to be my soulmate anymore if you knew all the terrible things I’ve done.”

Phyllis smiled back, feeling a lightness enter her chest. There was something so comforting about this Mary, alone and away from her tower. Just for a moment, she wished she could keep her.

“I don’t mind not knowing. I like you just as well either way.”

They lapsed into silence again, this time more comfortable. As they neared the gate to the church cemetery, Mary paused her steps and turned to face Phyllis.

“Have you ever wanted to…? Never mind. I’m being entirely improper. We should go before you get any colder on my behalf.”

“Wait.” Feeling extra daring after their conversation, Phyllis stuck a hand out and grabbed Mary softly around the wrist, stopping her from leaving. “Whatever it was, you can ask it.”

Mary looked hesitant and shifted in place. “Perhaps this wasn’t the best place to do so.” She frowned at the headstones.

“It’s Hallowe’en, the dead are celebrating among us even away from their graves,” Phyllis reminded. “There’s no wrong place tonight, Milady.”

“Very well.” Mary took a deep breath, steeling herself into her proper Lady Mary stance. “I simply wished to ask if you’d ever wondered what it might be like to finally act upon it for once.”

Phyllis floundered. “To… _act?”_

“With a kiss,” Mary rushed to clarify. “I only meant with a kiss.”

“Of course I’ve wondered,” Phyllis said wearily, not wanting to get her hopes up. There was no way Lady Mary was suggesting they should kiss. “But that’s little use when I’ve no one to wonder with, is it?”

“You have a new soulmate tonight, remember?” Mary smiled almost shyly. 

“That’s true,” Phyllis said breathlessly. “It would be a shame to waste such a chance, wouldn’t it?”

Mary leaned closer, the cold making her warm breath puff in Phyllis’s face. “Precisely,” she whispered.

Gently, Mary cupped her chin, eyes still seeking permission. When she found it, she tipped Phyllis’ chin higher and met her lips.

Everything in Phyllis fell weak. Mary was clearly not so sought after for only her looks. She hadn’t much to compare it to, but kissing Mary was more delightful than all her yearning could have imagined. The butterflies exploded in her stomach, sending shock waves through her, and Phyllis only barely managed to suppress a moan. She lurched forward, pushing Mary against the iron fence, sighing as softly gloved hands found her waist. Their kiss grew in intensity, soft and warm between them, full of a newfound bond that only existed in this space.

Finally she pulled away, feeling on fire, needing the cool air to calm her lungs. She felt scorched. Mary’s lips in the moonlight were red with the kisses, her eyes half shut even while she looked so entirely awake. 

“That was…”

“It was,” Phyllis finished, knowing without needing to hear it. It was all she’d ever wanted, and now that it was over, the thought of never having it again was too harsh to let linger just yet.

Mary cleared her throat and stepped away from the fence, straightening her coat. “We should probably…” she gestured towards the graves, their forgotten purpose for the excursion, and Phyllis nodded in agreement.

“I should thank you for humoring me, even though I was being far too forward,” Mary said as she began hiking through the winding path.

“The pleasure was mine.”

“Pleasure indeed,” Mary purred, chancing a wink. “I couldn’t have asked for a better new soulmate tonight. I think Matthew would agree.” Mary paused beside a stone, looking tearily down on it with a smile. “He’d have been happy for me, I think. To know I got this one night.”

“Would you like me to leave, Milady?” It felt like an intrusion to be part of Mary’s moment with Matthew’s grave.

“Please don’t,” Mary said hurriedly, reaching back and clasping onto Phyllis’ hand to anchor her in place. “I know it all has to end tomorrow, but just for tonight let me stand here with him and show him someone who sees me. I think it’s a comfort to him to know I’m not entirely alone here.”

“Of course, Milady, if it helps you I don’t mind at all.”

“And please, at least until we get back to Downton, can we just be Phyllis and Mary?” she asked hopefully, squeezing Phyllis’ hand.

“Keep this up and you’ll never be rid of me, Mary,” Phyllis teased, feeling her heart swell with hope she knew would be crushed come morning when it all went back to normal.

A strong gust of wind came from seemingly nowhere, knocking them into one another’s arms for balance. Phyllis began to apologize, but was stopped as Mary rolled with laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Is everything all right?” she asked wearily, checking her over for any injuries she might have inflicted in her tumble.

“You’ll think me foolish, but I truly think that was Matthew. I think somehow, he wanted me to know that he liked what you said. He doesn’t want me to be rid of you any more than I do, regardless of what my duty to Downton says.”

Unsure how to respond without getting her hopes up entirely too high, Phyllis just smiled. “There’s something good to be said about Mr. Crawley’s taste,” she teased. 

Mary watched her silently for a moment, eyes appraising in an entirely new way before she held her hand out. “I think we’ve frozen out here long enough. Let’s walk home?”

Feeling like it meant more than just the acceptance of a walk, Phyllis carefully took Mary’s hand back and allowed her to lead them out back to the road.

She wasn’t certain what path they were taking, whether Mary would awaken in the morning full of regret, whether things would go back to usual with no mention of this evening of revelations to follow, or even whether Mr. Crawley’s ghost might up and follow them home and continue his apparent matchmaking strategies. But she was certain that the butterflies plaguing her stomach weren’t ready to calm down, and the warmth in her palm from Mary’s own hand wasn’t ready to be lost to the embers, and her lips weren’t ready to cease tingling with the hope that the night might grace her with another kiss.

Perhaps apples couldn’t determine your soulmate.

But it was just possible that once in a while, on a full Hallowe’en night, they could get it just a bit right, too.


End file.
